So Much More(9)

The very moment the doctor pulled that gelatinous laden, squawking life form from my body and said, “It’s a boy,” Seamus’s face ignited with a look of love like I’ve never seen. It was so intense I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t witnessed it myself, firsthand.

It felt like my lungs deflated with each swell of Seamus’s. They laid the baby on my chest, but all I could do was watch Seamus fall in love. Not with me, but with the tiny human I’d just harbored for nine months and given life to. He should be looking at me with adoration for the sacrifice I’d just made. But he couldn’t because he was never going to see anything but the baby.

Seamus’s hand moved, and I could sense that he was stroking the baby’s head with a loving gentleness I’m sure had never been bestowed upon another in all of human history. It should have been heartwarming.

But instead, it hurt like hell.

“I think we should name him Kai, after my grandfather. It means ocean or sea.” He said it softly, reverently, with tears glistening in his eyes.

My lungs still vacant, all of the air drawn out by the betrayal I felt, left me unable to speak, so I nodded. And we named him Kai.





Stretch marks are for life





past





“I’m going back to work tomorrow.” I know they’re words he doesn’t want to hear. Seamus wants me to take advantage of the six weeks maternity leave that Marshall Industries offers their employees.

“It’s only been three weeks, Miranda. Give yourself some more time.” He’s holding a sleeping Kai in his arms; contented baby, contented daddy, the picture of familial perfection.

“I don’t need time. I need to get back into my old routine. I think it’s the only thing that will help.” I’ve feigned post-partum depression and have been subtly planting the seeds since Kai’s delivery, lobbying that a quick return to work will help me bounce back. I’m a year into my dream job and can’t afford time off. Time off gives my co-workers a competitive edge, and I’ll be damned if anyone gets an edge on me. Time off doesn’t fit into my plans. The twelve to fourteen hour work days I thrive on is what fits into my plans. It’s what makes promotions, raises, and titles possible.

He’s inwardly sighing, I can see it, but he’s also trying to be supportive of my fragile— fictional, unbeknownst to him— emotional state. “Are you sure this is what you need? That it will help?”

I nod. Damn right this will help. This is my fa?ade and everyone’s playing into it flawlessly. Seamus graduated with his degree two weeks before the baby was born on June first and doesn’t start his high school counseling job until mid-August. He’s doted on Kai twenty-four seven. I haven’t touched a bottle, changed a diaper, given a bath, or gotten up in the middle of the night. All my choice, of course, but Seamus is over the moon happy to be a dad and do it. To pick up my slack. I knew he would. He’s the goddamn patron saint of parenthood.

So, off to work I go. Leaving parenting to Seamus so I can focus on my career.

This baby stuff turned out to be a piece of cake.

Except the stretch marks, those sons of bitches are for life.





Forgotten and discarded, that pisses me off





present





I’m watching Kai clutching my cell phone in his hand holding it to his ear. The grip he has on it is fueled by the anxious hope that she’ll answer this time.

He’s standing on the landing outside our front door on the W…E mat. I can see him through the window from my seat on the couch, and I can hear the silence of an unanswered call through the open window.

When the voicemail prompt directs him to leave a message, his shoulders collapse in defeat and my heart twists. His voice is shaky when he speaks. “Hey. It’s Kai. Just checking in. Again. Looks like you’re busy…or whatever. Again. Bye.” And though I heard the muted sadness in his voice, I doubt she will.

It’s been two weeks since she’s talked to her kids. She’s on her honeymoon in the south of France with him. She texted exactly fourteen days ago to inform me they’d just eloped and were on their way to Europe for three weeks. She said she’d check in with the kids every couple of days. I begged her not to make a promise she couldn’t keep.

She hasn’t called once.

Kai calls her instead.

He leaves messages when she doesn’t answer.

Meanwhile, I bite my tongue. What I want to do is call her and say, “You’re a selfish bitch and a horrible mother.” Instead, I text her, The kids miss you and would love to talk to you. Or, when I want to scream into the phone, “You’ve ruined my f*cking life!” I take a deep breath and text, Please call your kids tonight. They need to hear your voice.

My kids are beginning to feel forgotten. Discarded.

That pisses me off.

Kai steps back inside and hands me my phone. “Thanks, Dad. I’m going down to shoot some hoops.”

There’s a basketball hoop attached to the side of the apartment building. I nod, but all I want to do is scream. For all of us.

Damn her.

“Want some company?” I ask. I know he doesn’t. He’s the type of kid that needs to be alone to process his feelings. We’ll talk about it this afternoon.